


Life Will Write The Words

by jumpthisship



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Chanyeol is a good boy, M/M, Soft feelings, and emo boys yelling at each other, and music stuff, plus dogs, teen delinquents with dogs au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpthisship/pseuds/jumpthisship
Summary: Kyungsoo would do just about anything to get Chanyeol, his neighbour and childhood best friend, to stop acting out and doing dumb, illegal shit. But it would be a lot easier if he knew any of the right words to say, and if he didn’t feel like everything is partially his fault.





	Life Will Write The Words

**Author's Note:**

> BASED OFF OF [THIS AMAZING ART](http://kagihana.tumblr.com/post/164106142653/day-5-prompt-34) BY MY WONDERFUL AND TALENTED SENPAI FRIEND JAY. look at it. seriously. these are her characters, her au, etc. she was kind enough to let me borrow them for a bit <333 also huge thanks to RUSTY for beta-ing and making this fic way better than it would have been without you. heart eyes emoji. 
> 
> (title from "Circa '46" by the Rocket Summer)

It's late evening when a knock comes at Kyungsoo's window.

It doesn't surprise him, even though it probably should. He lives in a sketchier part of LA, so it's unwise to leave his window unlocked at all times, especially on the ground floor. But it always is. It always has been.

He looks up from his homework, pads across the floor to pull open his blinds. Chanyeol stands on the other side, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets, head bowed. As soon as the light from Kyungsoo's room hits his face, he looks up, grins crookedly.

Kyungsoo sighs, pulls the bottom half of the glass up. "What happened?"

Chanyeol's shoulders hunch even higher. There's a very obvious bruise on his cheek, blood drying under his nose, above his lip. "Nothing."

" _Nothing_ ," Kyungsoo scoffs, prying the screen loose from the window frame. "Get in here."

He steps away so that Chanyeol can climb in over the windowsill, folding his body to squeeze through the opening and cradling the bulge at the front of his huge jacket.

"Goddammit, Yeol, you brought your _dog_ here?" Kyungsoo sighs.

Chanyeol finally makes it fully into his room and straightens out, chewing on his lip apprehensively. "He was with me, I had to," he says, unzipping his jacket halfway and carefully lifting a bundle of black fur out.

Kyungsoo doesn't say anything, just stares at Chanyeol's face as Toben zips around his room, his little collar jingling merrily.

Chanyeol fidgets under the scrutiny, running a hand through his thick hair. "What?"

Kyungsoo sighs, shakes his head. "What am I going to do with you?" he says, moving away to his desk, where he keeps bandaids and hydrogen peroxide in the bottom drawer.

"...Sorry," Chanyeol says, shuffling his feet restlessly.

"Sit down," is all Kyungsoo says, gesturing towards his bed. "Take off your shoes. And for fuck's sake, catch your dog before his tiny bell tells the whole neighbourhood you're in here."

"Sorry," Chanyeol says again, stumbling to toe off his ratty red converse and catch Toben at the same time.

Kyungsoo shakes his head, pulls a few tissues from the box by his bed to wet with disinfectant. "Hold still," he says, pushing Chanyeol down onto his bed and holding his shoulder steady with one hand. He presses the tissues to Chanyeol's nose, and is immediately rewarded with a hiss and an evasive jerk back. "I said _hold still_ ," he says, and moves his free hand to the back of Chanyeol's head, tipping his face up towards him and keeping it there.

Chanyeol stares up at him, silent and blinking, as Kyungsoo dabs at the scrapes and blood on his face.

"So," Kyungsoo says, fidgeting under Chanyeol's wide-eyed gaze. "What was it this time?"

Chanyeol starts chewing on his lip again immediately, petting Toben in his lap as the little dog squirms. "Nothing."

"Shoplifting?" Kyungsoo asks. "Pickpocketing? Something _really_ stupid, like...tagging, or something?"

Chanyeol shakes his head.

"No to all, or just the last one?" Kyungsoo asks, scraping at dried blood with his fingernail.

"I don't...I don't want to tell you," Chanyeol says quietly.

Kyungsoo sighs harshly through his nose, moves to pluck a bandage out of his box. "If you know it's stupid, why do you keep doing it?"

Chanyeol hesitates, then twitches his shoulders up in a shrug, bowing his head again like a child.

" _Look at me_ ," Kyungsoo says, annoyed, pulling Chanyeol's face back up by the chin. Chanyeol averts his gaze, winces as Kyungsoo puts the bandaid over the cut on his cheek more aggressively than necessary. When Chanyeol still refuses to speak, Kyungsoo makes a frustrated sound, stalks away to his desk. "You're not a kid anymore, Yeol," he says. "You're eighteen now. Old enough to be tried as an adult. If you keep getting caught doing dumb shit, you're going to go to _jail_. Real, actual jail."

"I never get _turned in_ ," Chanyeol mutters, hunching his shoulders again.

"No, you just get _beat up_ ," Kyungsoo says. "And knowing you, one day you're going to get _killed_."

Chanyeol makes a soft, sad sound, pets Toben quietly.

Kyungsoo sighs, turns away from him. "Where were Sehun and Jongin?"

"They weren't there," Chanyeol says.

"Good." Kyungsoo sits down at his desk again, pretends to read his class notes. "I don't like you hanging out with them."

"They didn't make me like this," Chanyeol says, defensive.

"I know," Kyungsoo says, turning around to pin him with a sharp glare. "I don't want _you_ making _them_ like this."

Chanyeol stares at him, mouth agape, and then he lowers his gaze again, swallows audibly. "I." He sighs quietly. "I just need somewhere to stay a while so my parents aren't awake when I get home."

Kyungsoo clenches his jaw, hates how his heart melts so readily when Chanyeol glances up at him with his sad brown eyes. "Of course you can stay here," he says tightly. "Don't be a moron."

Chanyeol's lips twitch up in a small, grateful smile, and Kyungsoo turns away again, chest aching.

There's a few long moments of silence, as Kyungsoo feigns doing his homework and Chanyeol finishes cleaning himself up, sticking band-aids over cuts on his knuckles. Eventually, Chanyeol shifts on Kyungsoo's bed, playing with Toben on his lap, and says, "How was...how was school today?"

Kyungsoo bites his tongue apprehensively. School has been a...touchy subject between them, ever since Kyungsoo got a scholarship to a really nice music school across town, while Chanyeol stayed behind in their local rundown third-rate public high school, with the barbed wire on all the fences and the kids smoking weed behind the garbage cans. And Kyungsoo worked _hard_ for that scholarship, okay, it's not like he was just given a free ride for no reason. But that didn't stop the change from creating a new wall of tension between him and his best friend.

Chanyeol's never said that he begrudges Kyungsoo, or holds any bitterness towards him, or anything like that. But Kyungsoo thinks he still feels it—feels _something_ , at least—in the way Chanyeol hesitates before bringing Kyungsoo's school up, the way he sometimes mentions Kyungsoo always being gone, spending all his time on the other side of town.

"It was fine," he says at last, trying to keep his voice light. "We got our assignments for finals, to start practicing."

"Cool," Chanyeol says. "Can I hear it?"

"I haven't learned it _already_ , Yeol," Kyungsoo says, smiling slightly. "I'm not a musical _genius_." He pauses, then says, "Not like you."

"I'm not," Chanyeol says immediately, hard and unyielding.

Kyungsoo sighs. "All my homework is theory, though," he says, letting it go. "It's boring."

"What kind of theory?" Chanyeol asks.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. "Relative minor and major scales."

Chanyeol huffs, sits back on Kyungsoo's bed. "I wish I knew that kind of stuff."

"Then learn it," Kyungsoo says, scratching out a scale on the messy staff he just drew.

Chanyeol makes a low sound, and Kyungsoo glances back to see him shrugging, scratching Toben under his ears. "What's the point?" he says, mouth pursed in a tiny frown.

Kyungsoo shakes his head, looks away. There's a reason they never talk about his schooling.

They fall into simple chatter after that—Chanyeol talking about a fight that happened at school during the week, Kyungsoo about the reasons why his mom won't let his dad choose the restaurants they eat at anymore. The evening wears on, and Chanyeol starts talking less and less, until Kyungsoo turns around and finds Chanyeol dead asleep across his bed, his legs dangling over the edge and Toben curled up just under his ribs.

Kyungsoo sighs, turns around fully in his chair and rests his chin against the back. Chanyeol slumbers on peacefully, his eyelids fluttering, his bruise stark against his skin in the low lamplight. He still looks like a kid like this. Like the kid Kyungsoo has known his entire life, the kid he grew up playing with in their shared yard, the kid that used to laugh constantly and say he wanted to be a rockstar when he grew up. It makes Kyungsoo's ribs squeeze painfully.

"You idiot," he whispers, and he doesn't know if he's talking to himself or to Chanyeol.

So he gets up, goes to get a glass of water from the kitchen. Comes back, puts the cup on the bedside table. And then slips his headphones on, turns on some music, and sets an alarm for 11:30 to wake up Chanyeol to send him home. Chanyeol being late for curfew is better than him showing up in front of his parents with fresh bruises.

He hates always doing this. He hates _having_ to do this. That it’s necessary.

But he doesn't know what else he _can_ do.

*~*~*

A week passes before Kyungsoo is the one knocking on Chanyeol’s window, shoulders hunched self-consciously. He _could_ just go through the front door, he knows. It’s not that late, and there’s no reason why he can’t be there. But it would feel wrong, somehow. They’ve always done it this way.

The blinds go up, and Chanyeol blinks at him in surprise. He doesn’t move until Kyungsoo gestures impatiently for him to open the window, and then he scrambles to do so. “Uh,” he says, staring at Kyungsoo. “Hi.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Hi,” he says. “Get out of my way.”

Chanyeol sidesteps, and Kyungsoo swings his backpack off his shoulder and through the opening before climbing through himself. Toben starts barking frantically the moment he gets inside, and Kyungsoo feigns a lunge at him to shut him up. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol says reproachfully. 

“Hey,” Kyungsoo replies, pretending it was a greeting. “What’s up?”

“Um,” Chanyeol says. “Not much. It’s 9:30. On a Wednesday.”

Kyungsoo smiles slightly. “Very observant of you.”

Chanyeol huffs moodily. “What are _you_ up to? What are you doing here?”

“What, a guy can’t visit his best friend when he wants?” Kyungsoo says. 

“You showed up at my window,” Chanyeol says, and then, “Are we still best friends?”

Kyungsoo scoffs. “Don’t be an idiot.” He unzips his backpack, rummages around in it. “I made you something.”

“You… _made_ me something?” Chanyeol repeats. “At 9:30 on a Wednesday?”

“Of course not, you moron,” Kyungsoo says. “I made it at 8:30.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, baffled. “What is it?”

Kyungsoo finally finds what he’s looking for, pulls it out triumphantly. “Here.”

Chanyeol takes the cheap plastic CD case from him carefully. “ _Kyungsoo’s Kickass Mix CD #12._ ” 

“It’s been a while since I made you one,” Kyungsoo says. “I hope I got the number right.”

Chanyeol blinks at it dumbly. “I. You. Yeah, you did.”

Kyungsoo grins. “Good. I spent all day compiling it mentally.”

Chanyeol flips the case over, reads the paper Kyungsoo taped onto the back. “What kinds of songs are these?”

Kyungsoo shrugs, pulling on the strings of his hoodies so they hang evenly. He thinks maybe this hoodie was Chanyeol’s, once, like four years ago. He wore his clothes ridiculously big back then, too. “Just songs I got from other people in class and stuff. So they’re like. All kind of musically unique? I don’t know. I thought you might like them.”

Chanyeol smiles, scratches the back of his neck a little shyly. “Thanks, Soo.”

Kyungsoo huffs awkwardly. “Next time you feel like doing something idiotic, listen to this instead.”

Chanyeol’s smile grows, and he bites his lip, his eyes warm and pleased. “What if I feel like doing something idiotic right now?”

“Well,” Kyungsoo says. “We better listen to it then.”

They turn on Chanyeol’s old stereo—inherited from his older sister, just like his phone and his scratched-up iPod nano—and put the CD in, and then sit down on the floor against the side of his bed to listen, throwing a little jingly ball across the floor for Toben to run after and catch. 

Halfway through the first song, Chanyeol’s bedroom door opens, and his mom pokes her head in. “Oh, Kyungsoo,” she says, smiling brightly. “I didn’t know you were over.”

“Hello, _eomma_ ,” Kyungsoo says, grinning back at her. “I just came to talk to Chanyeol a bit.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Mrs. Park gushes. “Do you want anything? A drink, or snacks?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” Kyungsoo says promptly. “I’m just here to listen to a few songs with Chanyeollie before I go to bed.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then,” Mrs. Park says indulgently. “It’s so nice to see you again. You should visit more often; Chanyeol misses you.”

“Mo- _om_ ,” Chanyeol groans, embarrassed. 

Mrs. Park laughs, waves him away, and then leaves them alone, closing the door gently behind her. 

“She’s just saying that because _she_ misses you,” Chanyeol grumps, trying to tug the ball from Toben’s tiny teeth. 

“What, so you don’t?” Kyungsoo teases. 

Chanyeol huffs, his ears red at the tips. “I like this song,” he says, a little too loudly. 

“Yeah?” Kyungsoo says, deciding to let him off the hook. 

“Yeah.” Chanyeol listens for a moment, presses his lips together. “I like the. The harmony here.” He hums the high harmony for a moment, traces it out clumsily in the air. “That sounds cool.”

Kyungsoo looks at him wonderingly. “I know. That’s exactly why I put it on the CD.”

Chanyeol grins, tips his head back against his mattress and closes his eyes to listen. The song ends, and the next one starts. He listens quietly for a minute, and then says, “Oh, this one is weird.”

“Yeah?” Kyungsoo says. 

“Yeah, the timing is… It’s like, _doo doo doo doo doo_ , and then _doo doo doo doo_ , and then _doo doo doo_. And then it goes back up. Five then four then three then four, and then it starts over at five again.” 

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says, a little breathless. “It’s called the Pyramid Song.”

Chanyeol hums. “But it’s like. You could split that up into groups of four. And they kind of do?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, amazed. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“Cool,” Chanyeol says, grinning. “Is this Radiohead?”

“Damn, Yeol,” Kyungsoo says. “See? You obviously know stuff. Like. You’re smart as hell.”

Chanyeol rolls his head towards him, opens his eyes and smiles bashfully. 

Kyungsoo frowns. “If you would just _try—_ ” 

Immediately, Chanyeol’s smile disappears. “There’s no _point_ , Soo,” he says. “You know that. Yura has all of our parents’ attention and money, since she’s in college, and I’m. I mean. There’s just no _point._ ” 

Kyungsoo huffs, turns away from him. “Forget it,” he says. “If you’re not willing to put any effort into it, then fine. You wouldn’t be able to make it anyway.”

“Soo,” Chanyeol says. “Come on.”

Kyungsoo sighs. “Fine. Sorry.”

“I just wanted to...listen to some music,” Chanyeol says. “With my best friend.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Kyungsoo picks absentmindedly at a loose thread in the rip of Chanyeol’s jeans, where his knee knocks against Kyungsoo’s. “What do you like about this song?”

Chanyeol listens for a few moments, then shakes his head. “I don’t know. I can tell there’s something different about it, though.”

“Well, if you find something, let me know,” Kyungsoo says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Because I just put this one in there because I like it.”

Chanyeol snorts, knocks his knee against Kyungsoo’s hand. “Loser.”

“It’s a good song,” Kyungsoo says, grinning wider. “You’re gonna get obsessed with it.”

“Probably,” Chanyeol relents. 

Kyungsoo sighs, tips his head back against the bed like Chanyeol had done before. Sits there, listening, as Chanyeol occasionally makes remarks about the songs that Kyungsoo picked out for him. They used to do this all the time. Exchange music, and listen to it together on the floor of Chanyeol’s room, on his old stereo, knees bumping. 

Kyungsoo misses that. He misses Chanyeol, even though they still live side-by-side, in the same old duplex on the same old street. He misses Chanyeol’s imitations of chord progressions, and Chanyeol’s quiet laughter when he obviously doesn’t know the lyrics to something. 

This is what things were like, before. Before Kyungsoo got into his new school, and Chanyeol started acting out more. 

Kyungsoo thinks, _I was happy then._

He thinks, _I’m happy now._

He thinks, _I’d be happier if—_

If. 

Chanyeol sits up at the end of the last song, grins broadly. “Again!” he cheers. 

“I need to go to bed soon,” Kyungsoo warns him. 

“No sleep,” Chanyeol says. “Only music.”

Kyungsoo smiles, shakes his head, and stays.

*~*~*

Things get better. Or at least, for Kyungsoo, they get better. He gets busier, what with the end of the year looming just ahead, and that means he doesn’t see Chanyeol much. Ever. He gets up before the sun even rises to meet Baekhyun to wait for the bus that takes them across town to their school, gets home late, is always mired in assignments and studying and practices. He goes to bed late, meets up with classmates on weekends to go over their exam pieces. It’s senior year; they’re all trying to get into good universities, good music programs. They don’t have time for much else.

So he’s busy. But things are good. Chanyeol doesn’t show up at his window with blood on his face. He never sees police cars pulled up outside their houses. He doesn’t get texts from Jongin or Sehun telling him something has happened to Chanyeol. 

He starts to think that maybe, _maybe_ , something he said has finally clicked. Maybe even that his mix CD has sparked something. 

And then, on a Saturday in March, Kyungsoo takes a break from his homework to walk to the corner store three blocks away to pick up milk for his mom and a bag of Skittles for himself. He browses the store a little, picks up a cheap freezie because it reminds him of his childhood. Tries to decide between grape and cherry. Grape was his favourite. But cherry was Chanyeol’s. 

He finally puts both of them into his basket and brings them to the counter. The bored girl behind the register rings up his purchases. 

The door to the corner store opens, and three people walk in, hoods pulled up over their bent heads, shoulders hunched. Kyungsoo doesn’t look at them until he hears the telltale jingle of a tiny collar bell, muffled through layers of fabric. 

His head snaps up, and Chanyeol freezes in his tracks at the back of the small group, eyes wide. 

Kyungsoo’s heart sinks. That is not the look of someone walking innocently into a store to buy something. That is not the look of someone simply surprised to see his friend out and about. 

“Guys,” Chanyeol mumbles immediately, eyes flicking to Sehun and Jongin in front of him, already delving into the shelves of the corner store. Neither of them hear him, or if they do, they don’t pay him any mind. “ _Guys_.” 

Kyungsoo swallows past the lump of cold disappointment and sharp frustration in his throat. Chanyeol looks back at him, and he shakes his head, turns back to the counter. He picks up his things, feels disgusted by the sight of the cherry freezie in his bag. 

“Soo,” Chanyeol whispers. 

Kyungsoo shakes his head, turns around, and walks out the door. He’s not going to get caught up in this shit. He _refuses_ to get caught up in this shit. He doesn’t even want to think about it. 

He simmers with hot, angry betrayal all the way home, and when he gets there he slams the milk into the fridge, tosses his Skittles onto the counter, and chucks both of his freezies straight into the trash. He’s just— He feels so fucking pissed. He should have known things weren’t better. Things _never_ get better. 

He finishes his homework with hard, angry strokes of his pencil, sloppy and rushed. He’s just checking it over for any glaring mistakes when the knock comes at his window. 

He almost doesn’t answer it. But then he thinks of Chanyeol—maybe bleeding, maybe in _trouble_ —and he yanks open the blinds despite himself, jaw set. 

Chanyeol glances up at Kyungsoo through his fringe, chin tipped down, shoulders hunched. “Hi,” he says. 

Kyungsoo swallows down several automatic barbs and says, “What do you want?”

Chanyeol’s shoulders twitch up in a small, nervous shrug. “Can I come in?”

Kyungsoo hesitates, breathes out a short, harsh sigh. “Fine.” He pries the screen off his window, turns away to wait while Chanyeol clambers inside. 

The sound of Chanyeol’s entry halts, and Kyungsoo doesn’t turn back around, eyes squeezed shut just to...to keep himself from screaming, or something. 

“Soo,” Chanyeol says. 

“ _What?_ ” Kyungsoo snaps. “What could you possibly have to say to me right now, Chanyeol?"

Chanyeol swallows audibly behind him. "I'm sorry," he says, and it sounds kind of like a question.

"Sorry for _what?_ " Kyungsoo asks, rounding on him. "What are you sorry for? I want you to tell me."

Chanyeol stares at him, wide-eyed, surprised and scared in the same instant. "I—"

" _Tell_ me," Kyungsoo says, squaring his shoulders, refusing to give in. Not this time.

Chanyeol's throat bobs. "I'm sorry for...making you upset."

Kyungsoo closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. "I don't—I don't _want_ you to be sorry for _that_ , Yeol."

"I know," Chanyeol whispers. Kyungsoo can hear him just fine in the oppressive silence of his bedroom. "But I'm still sorry. For always hurting you."

"Well," Kyungsoo says. "Then maybe you should stop doing it all the time, you dumbass."

Chanyeol's shoulders droop, and he reaches into the pocket of his huge purple jacket. "I got you this," he says quietly, and holds out a little silver keychain with a yellow sun on it, with GOLDEN STATE emblazoned across the bottom. The two of them used to collect corner store keychains—both of their families were too poor to actually travel, so they picked up souvenirs from around LA instead. It was fun, innocent. 

Kyungsoo snatches the keychain from Chanyeol's hand and tosses it straight into the trash. "I don't want your fucking stolen gifts, you moron," he says. "Don't even bring that shit into my _house_."

Chanyeol lowers his eyes, shuffles his feet. "Okay," he whispers. "I think I'll go, then."

"I think that's a good idea," Kyungsoo says.

Chanyeol looks so dejected—head down and arms tucked close to his body—that Kyungsoo almost, _almost_ feels a pang of sympathy for him.

But no. _No._ He won't. He knows, okay, he knows that Chanyeol doesn't exactly have it easy right now. But that doesn't give him an excuse to be a _fucking_ idiot. Kyungsoo will not feel sorry for him.

Not even when he looks at Kyungsoo with those big, brown eyes before scampering away to his own side of the house.

*~*~*

"Uh oh," Jongdae says the next day at school when Kyungsoo gets in off the bus. " _Someone's_ had a bad day."

"It's the asscrack of dawn, he hasn't had time to have a bad day yet," Baekhyun says, yawning from beside him. "He's been glowering all morning."

Kyungsoo frowns, pushes past them into the school building.

"Hey, what's up?" Jongdae asks, jogging to catch up with him. "Did something happen?"

"What do you think?" Baekhyun sings when Kyungsoo stays silent, pushing in between them and swinging his arms around both of their shoulders. "Relationship troubles."

"Shut up," Kyungsoo mutters, trying to shrug him off.

"Chanyeol again?" Jongdae sighs. 

Kyungsoo scowls. "He keeps _fucking up._ "

"Watch your language," Jongdae says as they pass by an open classroom door. "This isn't public school."

"As if you know anything about public school," Baekhyun snickers.

"I visited your neighbourhood once," Jongdae says with an imperious sniff.

"Yeah, and got pickpocketed. Immediately." Baekhyun grins.

"By _your_ friend," Jongdae says, glaring.

"It's not Sehun's fault you're an easy target," Baekhyun singsongs.

Kyungsoo sighs. "Could you two shut the hell up?"

"Sorry. Dae, shut up, Soo's having relationship issues," Baekhyun says.

Jongdae punches him gently enough that it could be considered encouragement. "What'd he do this time?" he asks Kyungsoo.

"Just the usual bullshit," Kyungsoo mutters. "I don't know why he keeps _doing this_. He obviously knows it's wrong and stupid and everything. And he knows it pisses me off. But like. I don't even think he knows _why_ it pisses me off."

"You mean because you're in love with him?" Jongdae says.

Kyungsoo punches him, much harder than he punched Baekhyun. "Could you two be serious for two fucking seconds?"

Jongdae winces and pulls away, and then makes an apologetic face at a passing teacher for Kyungsoo.

"It's just—" Kyungsoo sighs. "It just makes me so angry. It's not _like_ him. It's not like the way he used to be."

"You're older now," Baekhyun says, shrugging. "You're not the same people."

"But he _is_ ," Kyungsoo insists. "He's the same person; he's just acting like a _moron_. He still. I still see the old Chanyeol in him sometimes. So I don't know what's making him like this. Anger? Bitterness?"

"Bitterness about what?" Jongdae asks. They make it to Kyungsoo's locker, and he spins the lock on it deftly. 

"I don't know. The fact that I got to pursue music and he didn't?" Kyungsoo messes up his lock combination the first time in his frustration and growls. "Which is fucking _stupid—_ " ( _"Language,"_ Jongdae hisses) "—because he's always been good at music. Just, naturally. He's brilliant. And he _loves_ it. When we were kids, we used to, you know, pretend to be in a rock band. Together. I would sing and he would pretend to play the guitar, or the drums, or whatever. And that's what we _both_ said we always wanted to do when we grew up. And he _could,_ too, if he would just _learn._ "

"Why doesn't he, then?" Jongdae asks.

Kyungsoo snorts—rich kids—and gets his locker door open at last. "Couldn't afford it. Lessons cost money, Dae. Our parents don't just throw money at us whenever we ask for it."

Jongdae sticks out his tongue at him childishly. "Well, I'm sure he could teach himself, if he's as smart as you always say."

"I think so, too," Kyungsoo says. "But he won't. And, like, he doesn't have access to instruments, either. There's a guitar class at the high school, you know, but you have to buy and bring your own guitar. And he just can't afford it. We don't have that kind of pocket change."

Jongdae huffs out a sigh, shrugs. "And he won't steal it, huh?"

Kyungsoo swallows thickly, starts pulling books out of his locker. He hates acknowledging the dumb shit his best friend does, especially to other people, even when he knows they know. "No," he says eventually. "Not this. This—music is sacred. To him. He won't steal something like this."

Jongdae sighs as well, and Baekhyun knocks their shoulders together to steer him towards his own locker down the hall. "I mean, you have to draw the line somewhere..."

Kyungsoo finishes getting his stuff together for first and second period and then follows them down the hall. "I just want him to _see_ ," he mutters. "I just want him to be _better._ "

His friends shrug, move along. They think that it's pointless, to keep thinking about it, keep stewing about it.

But Kyungsoo doesn't want to give up. Not about this. He doesn't want to let it go, let it get worse.

It's so tiring to always _care so much_. But Kyungsoo can't stop caring. Not about Chanyeol.

*~*~*

The next time Chanyeol shows up at Kyungsoo's house—two weeks later, with a cut above his eyebrow and a swollen lip—Kyungsoo just...flips his shit. He all but drags Chanyeol in through his window, sitting him down on his bed and rubbing at the blood furiously, and says, "You _fucking idiot._ I can't believe you're still fucking _doing this._ It just—it just blows my mind, okay? It blows my mind that you can be so stupid, over and over again."

Chanyeol cringes away from his rough handling, making soft whimpering sounds. "Soo—"

"No, shut the fuck up. You're a _good person_ , Chanyeol. You're _good_ , and you need to be _better_. I—" Kyungsoo stops, sucks in a deep breath. "I need you to fucking be _better_."

Chanyeol stares up at him with those big brown eyes of his, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. "Some drunk guy was kicking Sehun's dog," he says quietly. "I had my bat with me. So I took care of it. Or. I tried to."

Kyungsoo sets his jaw, breathes out a harsh sigh through his nose. He tips Chanyeol's chin up with gentler fingers to dab at his lip. "I need you to do anything other than get into fights, Yeol," he says. " _Anything._ "

Chanyeol pulls his face away from Kyungsoo's touch, looks away. "I'm sorry I always let you down," he whispers.

"Then _do something better_ ," Kyungsoo says, frustrated, tired. Desperate.

"I don't know how," Chanyeol says, wincing as Kyungsoo touches his damp cloth to his lip again. "I only know how to be. Bad."

Kyungsoo sighs, closes his eyes as he tips his head forwards. Tired. So _fucking_ tired. "I don't want to fight with you," he says quietly. "Yeol. I'm so sick of fighting with you all the time."

Chanyeol sniffs softly; Kyungsoo doesn't open his eyes. "I don't want to fight, either."

Kyungsoo clenches his teeth. "I know you come here to. To get away. And to feel _safe._ "

Chanyeol makes a soft, pathetic little sound.

"I just—" Kyungsoo draws a deep breath. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

Chanyeol is quiet for a long time, and then he whispers, "Can I stay here tonight?"

Kyungsoo hesitates. It's a school night; he'll be up an hour before Chanyeol has to be. And he hates that feeling, like he's hiding a fugitive. But he wants Chanyeol here. He wants to know where he is, even just for a few hours. He wants Chanyeol to _know_ he can...be here. That he can feel safe here. No matter what.

"Yeah," he says at last, taking a step back. "Course."

Chanyeol nods jerkily, pulls his jacket tighter around his shoulders even though it's not cold in Kyungsoo's room. "Do you have any music to listen to, maybe?"

Kyungsoo sighs. "Yeah," he says softly. "Sure."

It's not that late—barely even dark—but Kyungsoo doesn't argue when Chanyeol starts shedding clothing and climbing into Kyungsoo's bed, just barely big enough to fit two. He goes to the bathroom, tells his parents Chanyeol is sleeping over—assures them that he's okay, and is grateful when they don't pry further—and when he returns, Chanyeol is already curled up closest to the wall, brows pinched above his closed eyes.

Kyungsoo watches him for a second—rubs his chest over his aching heart—and then goes to his laptop, turns on soft music while he finishes up his homework.

"I love this song," Chanyeol says quietly, fifteen minutes in. Kyungsoo had assumed he'd fallen asleep.

Kyungsoo smiles slightly. It's the song he'd told Chanyeol he'd get obsessed with, from his mix CD. "It's good, right?" he says.

Chanyeol hums, sleepy and only half-conscious. "Reminds me of...home," he says vaguely.

Kyungsoo turns in his chair, gives him a small smile. "Because we listened to it there first?"

Chanyeol shakes his head against Kyungsoo's pillow. "R'minds me of you."

Kyungsoo stares, blinks, and goes warm. He turns back around, picks up his pencil. "Go to sleep," he mumbles.

"Mmmh," Chanyeol says. "G'night."

Kyungsoo smiles down at his desk. "Moron," he whispers.

He only climbs into bed an hour later himself, sliding under the edge of the blanket that Chanyeol has already mostly stolen, sighing into the darkness. They used to do this all the time, as kids. Stay over at each other's houses, no matter the day. Just on a whim. Just because they wanted to. Because it felt good.

Things used to be good. But now they’re...this. And something has to change. Something _has_ to change.

*~*~*

The next morning, Kyungsoo wakes up a full half hour before his alarm goes off—when the sun hasn't even begun to rise yet—because his subconscious is so concerned about Chanyeol waking up, Chanyeol getting enough sleep. Even though Chanyeol was the one to go to bed absurdly early, and gets to wake up later.

Kyungsoo sighs, rolls over, turns on his bedside lamp. And then he sits up, rubbing his tired eyes, and looks down at Chanyeol on the bed beside him.

He's still fast asleep, curled up on his side facing Kyungsoo, his hair in his eyes and his hands tucked under his chin like a baby. He looks soft like this—innocent, washed in gold light and perfectly peaceful—and it makes Kyungsoo's chest ache. Because under that shock of dark hair, Kyungsoo knows there's a cut through his eyebrow, proof that he's no longer a child, no longer the sweet little boy Kyungsoo used to know. There's a bruise hiding under the shadows falling over his face, proof that things aren't perfect. Things haven't been perfect for a long time.

Things were never _perfect_. Obviously. Their families have always struggled, Chanyeol has never been great in school, Kyungsoo has never quite known where he belongs. But things got better for Kyungsoo. And they got worse for Chanyeol. Harder. He used to be happy. They used to be happy, together.

Kyungsoo sighs, brushes a lock of hair off Chanyeol's forehead. Then he gets up, gets dressed in the semi-darkness of his room, and leaves after setting an alarm on Chanyeol’s phone to wake him up in an hour.

He ends up dozing against Baekhyun's shoulder on the bus all the way to school, and is tired and out of it all day, drifting from class to class in a daze, thinking, thinking. Wondering what he can do. How to make things better. Wondering if it's his fault that things are bad in the first place.

"Dude," Jongdae says at the end of the day, when Kyungsoo zones out in the middle of their after-school practice session in one of the school's private rooms. "Are you okay? What's up with you lately?"

Kyungsoo sighs, waves his hand vaguely. "Nothing. I'm fine. Chanyeol stayed over last night."

"Scandalous," Baekhyun says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Not like _that_ ," Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes. "Just. He's been having a rough time recently."

Jongdae gives him a concerned look. "He's killing you, Soo. You've been tired and distracted for weeks now."

"I know," Kyungsoo moans, running a hand over his face. "I know. I don't know what to do."

"Finals season is coming," Jongdae says, frowning. "Can't this, you know… _wait?_ You kind of need to focus on _your_ life right now."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Kyungsoo asks. "Just leave him outside, bleeding?"

Jongdae shrugs. "I mean. He's kind of doing this to himself. Can't he take care of himself?"

And Kyungsoo knows—he knows Jongdae's saying this out of concern. That he's worried about Kyungsoo, and concerned for his future. But Jongdae doesn't _get_ it. He'll never get it. "Maybe he _can_ , Dae," he says, too loud, too harsh. "Maybe he _can_ , but why should he have to? Why should he have to take care of himself, and watch me fuck off to my better life and better school? How is that fair to him?"

Jongdae blinks, taken aback. "I mean. You're the one who always says that he could be here if he just tried a little harder."

"I know I say that!" Kyungsoo snaps. "But that doesn't mean it's that easy! Do you know what it's like in that school? Do you know how much people look down on academics, on _trying?_ He's surrounded by people who don't care, who don't want to care. And it's _hard_ for him. Things are just _hard for him_. He's _tired_. His parents barely have time for him, his sister is off at college, their pride and joy, and Chanyeol is stuck there, struggling, constantly being criticized by his teachers because he can never keep up with their fucking stupid curriculum, and it's just—it's just _hard_. You think it's so easy because your parents have money and you were born with a brain wired for reading notes, learning from books. But that's not what it's like for everyone. And I just want to _help_ him. So don't tell me he can take care of himself. He shouldn't fucking _have to_."

Both Jongdae and Baekhyun gape at him. Kyungsoo has never blown up at them before. Not like this.

He sighs, frustrated, and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna go for a walk."

Almost the second Kyungsoo turns away, Jongdae catches his shoulder. "Hey," he says, quiet, apologetic. "I'm sorry. I know I don't understand. And Chanyeol is...lucky to have you."

Kyungsoo sucks in a deep breath, nods once. And then he walks out, shoulders tense and head pounding.

Sometimes, he really doesn't believe that. That Chanyeol is lucky to have him. Sometimes, Kyungsoo is positive he's just making everything worse.

He walks aimlessly for five minutes, and then with more purpose for another five, delving into the less glitzy streets that surround his school, the more run-down back alleys. It feels more like home. It feels more like a place where Kyungsoo belongs.

He only stops walking when he sees a familiar shape in the window of a pawn shop, reflecting late afternoon sunlight. It's an old, scratched acoustic guitar—well-loved—a reminder of Kyungsoo's childhood. His childhood with Chanyeol, wandering the streets of LA, watching his best friend sigh over every musical instrument they passed by, every street performer collecting tips for their music. He remembers saying, "I'd get that for you if I could. You could be that person if you wanted."

He gets out his phone and texts Jongdae. _Just practice without me. I gotta go home._

*~*~*

Kyungsoo knows Chanyeol will be home when he gets there—Chanyeol never goes looking for trouble two days in a row. Kyungsoo arrives slightly out of breath, sweating even though it’s a cool day. "Hey," he says, knocking on Chanyeol's window. "Let me in."

He hears a muted clatter of sound from within, and then Chanyeol's yanking up the blinds, looking startled. His eye under yesterday's cut is mottled with a bruise, and it makes a flash of frustration pulse behind Kyungsoo's eyes. "What's wrong?" Chanyeol says as soon as his window is open, and then catches sight of the guitar in Kyungsoo's hands. "What's that?"

"It's for you," Kyungsoo says, thrusting it forwards. "Let me in."

Chanyeol steps back, and Kyungsoo pushes the guitar in through the opening in the window. It falls to the floor with a hollow sound, and Kyungsoo winces, follows it through.

Chanyeol stares at him as he stands up. "What are you talking about?"

Kyungsoo picks the guitar back up, pushes it towards Chanyeol. "This is for you. You're going to learn."

Chanyeol's brows pinch together. "No," he says immediately. "Soo, I won't take something like that from you."

"It's not a gift," Kyungsoo says. "This is my guitar. I just bought it. For thirty bucks. But I'm lending it to you, and you're going to learn how to play it. Starting today." He swings his backpack off his shoulders, tugs out a tattered _Guitar for Beginners_ book.

Chanyeol swallows audibly, sets his jaw. "Why?" he says. "Why should I? What's the point?"

Kyungsoo huffs, clenches his fingers around the neck of the guitar. "It doesn’t matter if there’s no point, Chanyeol! The point is that if you show up at my window one more time with a black eye, I’m going to scream. The point is that you’ve been staring longingly at guitars in store windows for _years_. The point is that you are _better than this_ , and you love music, so fucking _learn how to play it._ ”

Chanyeol stares at him for a second, and then softly says, "I don't want you to pity me."

"I'm not pitying you!" Kyungsoo says, pressing the hand holding onto the guitar against Chanyeol's chest. "I'm just so fucking _tired_ of this, Yeol. I've never pitied you, because you're not pitiful. You're just stupid." He bites his tongue, shakes his head. "You're not stupid. You just make stupid decisions. But you’re also smart and passionate and a _good fucking person_ , so fucking _act like it_.”

Chanyeol stares at the guitar in silence for a long moment, and then takes it slowly, like it pains him, like he’d rather do anything but. He doesn’t say anything, just hunches his shoulders and looks away. 

Kyungsoo inhales deeply, closes his eyes. He never knows the right words to say. But he has to keep trying. He can’t stop trying, not now. “Make me do something.”

For a second, Chanyeol doesn’t respond. Kyungsoo blinks his eyes open, and Chanyeol stares back at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

Kyungsoo swallows thickly, nods towards the guitar. “I’m making you learn guitar. You can make me do something, too. A fair trade.”

“I don’t want to make you do something,” Chanyeol says, frowning. 

“That makes me the asshole. Make me do something, Yeol. For you.”

Chanyeol’s forehead smooths out. “But you already do so much for me,” he says softly. 

Immediately, Kyungsoo shakes his head, doesn’t let himself go all soft and wobbly the way he wants to. “That’s not because you make me. That’s because I want to.”

Chanyeol’s lips quirk up in a tiny smile. “Walk my dog,” he says—like he’s been thinking about it. In the past. “Come with me to walk my dog.”

Kyungsoo bites his lip. “When? I have rehearsals after school.”

“Whenever. I don’t care.” Chanyeol’s smile widens, and then fades as he glances at the guitar in his hands. “Kyungsoo, I—I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this.”

“Try,” Kyungsoo says, unyielding. “You’re going to try. Or so help me god—”

Chanyeol huffs, hunches his shoulders. “Fine.”

Kyungsoo nods firmly, doesn’t let himself doubt whether or not this was a good idea. Sometimes, he tells himself, someone just needs a kick in the ass to get started. He straightens his back, squares his shoulders. “And if you see Sehun or Jongin,” he says, “send ‘em my way. I’ll kick their asses, too.”

*~*~*

That weekend, Kyungsoo cancels a study session with Baekhyun and Jongdae so that he can be home before dark to...walk Chanyeol’s fucking dog with him. He figures that if he’s going to make Chanyeol do something that’s clearly hard for him, it’s the least he can do to make one little sacrifice in return.

“So?” he says, as soon as they’re walking down the sidewalk with Toben on his little black leash, collar jingling away. “How are the music lessons going?”

Chanyeol frowns, stuffing his hands into his pockets. It’s a warm day—March is turning to April, and California never really gets that cold—but he’s wearing his huge purple jacket anyway, the heavy fabric sliding down to reveal his bare shoulders under the sleeveless shirt he’s wearing underneath. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he mutters. 

“Well, are you at least trying?” Kyungsoo presses. 

Chanyeol sighs. “I’m— _trying_ to try. But it’s. Hard.”

Kyungsoo watches his face for a moment, and then nods. “I know.” He holds out his hand. “Let me hold the leash.”

Chanyeol swerves away from his reach. “No, Tobennie doesn’t like you. You’ll choke him.”

Kyungsoo scoffs. “If you’re not even going to let me walk your dog, why did you make me come here?”

Chanyeol sniffs, shrugs. “Saying _I’m gonna make you hang out with me_ sounded too pathetic.”

Kyungsoo scoffs again, because it’s easier than admitting how much that pains him. “You just want me to be the poop scooper.”

Chanyeol flashes him a wide grin, and Kyungsoo pretends not to notice how it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

They walk for a few minutes, chatting, enjoying the spring weather. Toben goes nuts at everything that moves within four feet of him, and Chanyeol loyally allows every child they pass by to pet him, even when their mothers try to tug them along. They walk past the corner store, and Chanyeol silently crosses the street to avoid walking by the door. Kyungsoo follows him wordlessly. 

“So,” Kyungsoo says, picking at a thread at the elbow of Chanyeol’s jacket. He wears it every single day—it’s never going to last all year. 

“So?” Chanyeol says, when Kyungsoo doesn’t continue. 

Kyungsoo shrugs. “I don’t know. I feel like this is the part where I start asking about how you’re really doing or something.”

“Why don’t I ever get to do that?” Chanyeol asks. “The asking bit.”

“Because I’m emotionally repressed,” Kyungsoo says, quirking a smile at him. “I’d rather die than answer that question.”

“You’re not emotionally repressed. You get very emotional at me. And that emotion is angry.” 

Kyungsoo snorts. “I feel many emotions for you, Chanyeol. Right now I am feeling like you should let me gracefully avoid the question.” 

Chanyeol makes a huffy face at him, and then catches his hand suddenly and pulls him and Toben both out of the way of some guy on his bike flying down the sidewalk towards them. Kyungsoo stumbles into Chanyeol’s side, ducks behind him, and then retakes his place next to him when the cyclist has passed. 

“You’re gonna get run over before I manage to complete my redemption arc,” Chanyeol mutters, fingers tightening around Kyungsoo’s hand. 

Kyungsoo glances down at their hands between them. Chanyeol’s palm is sweaty against his, warm and clammy where their skin touches, and something about it makes Kyungsoo feel bizarrely flustered. They used to hold hands as kids. When they were crossing streets, and when they were scared of the dark, and just because they wanted to. But now it makes Kyungsoo feel weird. He wonders, vaguely, when it started making him feel weird. “Now it feels like you’re walking _me,_ ” he says. 

Chanyeol looks down at their hands, flexes his fingers, and then slowly lets Kyungsoo’s palm slip out of his hold as he quickens his pace just enough that it’s noticeable. 

Kyungsoo winces, chews on his lip. He always feels like he’s saying the wrong thing. He never, _never_ feels like he’s getting it quite right with Chanyeol. 

“So I have this friend,” Chanyeol blurts. 

Kyungsoo glances up at him. “Jongin?”

Chanyeol frowns. “What? No.”

“So Sehun,” Kyungsoo says. 

“...Let’s just not name the friend.”

Kyungsoo smiles, a little lost but amused. “Okay. A friend.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, and then pauses for a second. “And like. This friend. I think he has...a crush. On someone.”

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says, nodding along. 

“And the person he has a crush on is...his friend. Who is a boy. They’re both boys.” He glances at Kyungsoo quickly, stops while Toben sniffs at a fire hydrant. Kyungsoo waits patiently. “Is that bad?” Chanyeol continues at last. “Is it a bad thing that he has a crush on his friend?”

Kyungsoo frowns. “It’s not wrong to like someone, Yeol.”

Chanyeol’s throat bobs. “Yeah but...what if that person wouldn’t like it if he knew his friend had a crush on him?”

“Does your friend know that? That the person wouldn’t like it?” Kyungsoo crouches as Toben jumps up against his legs, tries to keep his dirty little paws away from his jeans. 

“Well.” Chanyeol rubs his palm against the back of his neck, doesn’t look directly at Kyungsoo. “Not for sure. But the possibility is there and...is that bad? Is he doing a bad thing?”

Kyungsoo’s stomach turns uncomfortably. He doesn’t know exactly what Chanyeol is trying to get at—what he _means_ , exactly—but he knows he has to choose his words carefully. “No,” he says confidently. “He’s not doing a bad thing. You can’t help who you like.”

“My friend,” Chanyeol corrects. 

Kyungsoo nods, stands up again. “That’s what I mean. Your friend can’t help who he likes. No one can. He’s not doing anything wrong.”

Chanyeol’s throat bobs again, and he tugs Toben’s leash gently to get him to start walking again. “It’s just, my friend is worried. He. He’s always worrying that he’s doing bad things. And he doesn’t know how to stop. And it feels like they’re always piling up, and. And he. He doesn’t want to add another bad thing to the pile. But he’s really trying to do less...bad things. But he doesn’t always know...how. And the problem is that doing things that aren’t bad is way harder.”

Kyungsoo stares at him for a second, brows furrowing. “Yeol—”

Chanyeol jerks to a halt. “Do you want to go back now? I think Toben is tired.”

Kyungsoo hesitates, wanting to ask, wanting to pry, but— But he never knows the right thing to say anyway. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s go back.”

Chanyeol’s parents aren’t home when they return, but they head into Chanyeol’s room anyway—they always stay in Chanyeol’s room. As soon as they get there, Chanyeol unclips Toben’s leash, helps him out of his little pink dog sweater, and then flops onto his back on top of his bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

Kyungsoo picks up the scratched old guitar from the corner of his room, hands it to him, and then lies down next to Chanyeol as he says, “Show me what you’ve learned so far.”

He can hear the click of Chanyeol’s throat as he swallows, the dull thrum of his hand brushing over the strings. “I can’t.”

Kyungsoo sighs, squirms under the arm Chanyeol’s lifted to hold onto the guitar, and presses his face into Chanyeol’s shoulder. He’s warm, and he smells familiar, and everything in Kyungsoo’s chest hurts. He listens to Chanyeol pluck at strings randomly, and he thinks it sounds out of tune, but he doesn’t want to mention it. He doesn’t want to say anything, because he never knows what to say, and he never knows what to _do_. He always wants to help, but he always thinks maybe he’s just making things worse.

“Hey,” Chanyeol says softly. “Remember that day we fell in that pond?”

Kyungsoo blinks. “When we were camping?”

Chanyeol nods, and Kyungsoo feels it against the top of his head. “Yeah. Near that lake. During spring break in eighth grade.”

“I remember,” Kyungsoo says, a smile pulling at his lips. “We were trying to catch frogs.”

“But then you caught one and got scared,” Chanyeol says. 

“It felt gross,” Kyungsoo says defensively. “I was surprised.”

“And you fell in,” Chanyeol says, laughing softly. “And pulled me with you.”

“You weren’t supposed to fall, you were supposed to hold me back.” 

“The pond was so gross,” Chanyeol sighs. “And we thought our parents would get mad so we didn’t want to go back to the camping area. So we stayed out for hours, waiting to dry off.”

Kyungsoo smiles against Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Your mom wouldn’t let us into the tents while we were covered in mud, but we’d made a vow not to shower all week.”

“We sat on that old fallen tree for hours before we gave in,” Chanyeol says. “And I was embarrassed because Yura made fun of me for having mud all over my ass, but you kept making me laugh about something. I can’t remember what it was, but I laughed about it for ages.”

Kyungsoo closes his eyes, chuckles softly. “That was a good day.”

“That was the best day,” Chanyeol agrees. “Sometimes, I wished I could stay in that day forever. I thought about that for a long time.”

Kyungsoo chews his lip silently for a second. That was the spring before he got the scholarship to go to his high school. Everything changed after that. Everything got worse. 

But Chanyeol doesn’t mention that. He just says, “I just remember I was so happy that day. I think we were both happy.”

He turns his face then, looks at Kyungsoo, a crooked smile rounding his cheeks. Their faces are close—a couple of inches apart—and Kyungsoo’s fingers curl instinctively around Chanyeol’s arm, his lips curve to match Chanyeol’s. His heart does something weird, like a sigh in his chest. “We were,” he says. “I was happy, too.”

This time, Chanyeol’s smile reaches his eyes. “Good.”

*~*~*

Four days later, Kyungsoo finally manages to get himself away from his homework and across the shared lawn to Chanyeol’s window. It’s late—already dark—but there’s light coming through the blinds, and Kyungsoo grins, fishing a USB stick out of his pocket. He spent all weekend searching up and downloading different Guitar for Beginners videos from YouTube, knowing they’d probably be way more useful to Chanyeol than words and pictures on a page.

He’s just about to knock on the glass when he hears a harsh chord of music spill through the half-open window, awkward and grating. There’s an annoyed huff of sound, and then another chord, and another. Kyungsoo listens, and smiles. They’re far from perfect—Kyungsoo has serious doubts about the tuning of the guitar—but they’re stubborn. They’re real and crashing into the world. Progress. 

“Knock knock,” he says, rapping his knuckles against the glass. The chords stop abruptly, and Chanyeol pulls up the blinds a second later. 

He’s not smiling. “What do you want,” he says gruffly, shoulders hunched, Toben yapping in the background. 

Kyungsoo blinks. “I came to give you something.”

Chanyeol grimaces. “Another thing? Already?”

Kyungsoo is so surprised by his tone that he doesn’t know what to say for a moment. “I— Can I come in?”

Chanyeol sighs, shrugs. Opens the window farther and steps aside. 

By the time Kyungsoo has climbed through, Chanyeol’s shoulders have relaxed. “Sorry,” he says, head down, embarrassed now. “I’m just. I was...practicing.”

“I could tell,” Kyungsoo says carefully, looking him over. Chanyeol looks tired, drawn a little thin, but there are no new cuts or bruises. At least not where Kyungsoo can see. The guitar’s lying across his bed, set aside carefully. “How’s it going?”

Chanyeol makes a vague sound, sits down on the edge of his bed. His hands rest on his knees, palms up, and Kyungsoo can see the reddened tips of his fingers. “It’s shit,” he says. “I’m. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Kyungsoo frowns. “Why not? You love music. You’ve always said you want to learn.”

Chanyeol sighs, harsh and frustrated. “It’s hard. Nothing sounds right and my fingers hurt and I’m not _getting_ anywhere. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s too late for me to get into college now. My grades are shit and it’s not like I’d pass a test for a music program and it’s just—it’s so fucking hard. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Yeol,” Kyungsoo says, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t have to go straight into college after high school. You know that, right?”

Chanyeol lifts his head, blinks up at him. “Well what would I do instead?”

“I dunno, get a job? Save up some money? Work on turning your life around?” Kyungsoo suggests. 

Chanyeol growls, pushing his hand through his hair. “But that sounds _hard_.” 

“Life is hard, Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo says, throwing his hands in the air. Chanyeol stares at him, wide-eyed, and Kyungsoo sighs, lowers his voice. “Life is _hard_. Getting into a music school on scholarship was hard. Figuring out a way to get out of this shitty neighbourhood was hard. Right now, being your _friend_ is hard. But you do hard things sometimes, okay? You do hard things if you care about them.”

Chanyeol’s jaw twitches, and he looks away again, looks up at the ceiling and doesn’t say anything. 

Kyungsoo clenches his fists, takes a deep breath. Wonders how many wrong things he just said. What he all made worse _this_ time. 

He says, “I know it’s hard. I know. But I want you to keep trying.” He fishes the USB out of his pocket, sets it down on the bed beside Chanyeol. “Try these. I think they might help.”

Chanyeol shrugs, doesn’t look at him. And the thing is, Kyungsoo doesn’t even blame him. “Hey,” he says, voice coming out a little hoarse. Chanyeol’s chin jerks in his direction, but he doesn’t turn. “Chanyeol. I’m. Look.” He sighs, tries to find the right words. “Yeol, I’m...proud of you. For trying. Okay? I really am proud of you.”

Chanyeol’s throat bobs. “I’m not even accomplishing anything.”

“I know, Yeol, but you’re _trying_. You’re always trying. And I—I know it’s hard. To try. But you always try anyway.” Kyungsoo curls his fingers tighter, forces his voice past the lump in his throat. “And I’m sorry that I’m always just...yelling at you, and making you feel like shit. I don’t want you to always feel like shit around me. So. I’m sorry. And I don’t think you’re shit.” Chanyeol’s shoulders twitch up in a shrug, and Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I don’t. You’re _not_. I’m always getting angry and saying shitty things to you because I’m _frustrated_ and _tired_ and _worried_ but I don’t. I think you’re awesome, okay? I get angry because I know what you’re really like and I see you acting stupid but I know that you’re—you’re an awesome person. And you’re brilliant. And you’re my best friend, and I’m really glad you’re my best friend. And you’re important to me. Which is why I yell, but I’m _sorry_. And.” He swallows thickly. “I love you, okay?”

Chanyeol turns, finally, stares at him. 

Kyungsoo looks away, rubs a hand through his hair. “You’re. You’re my best friend. I gotta go study for finals, but I wanted you to know, okay. That I’m proud of you, and I’m really happy that you’re trying, and that I...love you. And. Yeah.”

Chanyeol doesn’t say anything—just stares, like he doesn’t quite understand what Kyungsoo is saying—and honestly, Kyungsoo barely knows, either—and then Kyungsoo jerks his thumb over his shoulder, starts shuffling back towards the window. “I should go now. Keep practicing, okay?”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says quietly. 

Kyungsoo nods, warm-cheeked, and then climbs back out the window and hurries home.

*~*~*

After the required puppy walk, Kyungsoo doesn't see Chanyeol for two solid weeks.

It's not really his _or_ Chanyeol's fault, he doesn't think. Final projects are all suddenly due all at the same time, and Kyungsoo is up to his neck in preparations for his own graduation, the end of his high school career. Practice sessions and studying and extra scholarship applications and making sure his grades are high enough to _get_ those scholarships. He can't be blamed—he's pretty sure—for not really having time to check on Chanyeol every single night.

And the thing is, every time he does check on Chanyeol, he's not home. His bedroom lights aren't on, and no one answers when he knocks on the glass.

It's...worrisome. Kyungsoo is worried. But he doesn't have _time_ to be worried. He's already so busy worrying about himself. And Chanyeol is an adult.

At least that's what Jongdae keeps telling him, whenever Kyungsoo spaces out in the middle of practices, or gets caught sighing about nothing.

"I get that you're concerned about him," Jongdae says, while Baekhyun stays silent because he knows Kyungsoo is much more likely to beat him up for saying something out of line. "But you _won't_ always have time to bail him out or whatever. He can't _always_ have people—have _you_ —picking him up and dusting him off. I'm not saying that he should _never_ have help. Okay? But if he's not capable of staying out of trouble without your constant supervision... You know? Maybe he needs more help than just yours."

Kyungsoo huffs out a frustrated breath, drags his fingers through his hair. "But I don't even _know_ what's going on with him. Usually, if he's getting into trouble, he comes to me. But he's not doing that right now. He's just...not around."

"Is that a good sign or a bad sign?" Baekhyun asks.

Kyungsoo shrugs morosely, dotting his pen in the margins of his paper. "I don't know. But I'm worried it's bad. Worse than usual. I'm worried I said something so wrong that he won't even come to me if something happened."

Jongdae and Baekhyun glance at each other, and then shrug. "Text him?" Jongdae suggests.

"Tried it," Kyungsoo mutters. "He's being evasive."

"Sounds bad," Baekhyun sighs. "Ask his parents?"

"I don't want to say anything in case he gets in _more_ trouble," Kyungsoo admits. "He doesn't need the added stress."

"Or maybe he does?" Jongdae says uncertainly. "Like. Maybe he _needs_ to get in trouble. Real trouble. In order for him to stop."

Kyungsoo sighs heavily. "I don't know," he says. "I don't know what's best at this point."

He finishes up his part of their joint project, packs up his things, catches the bus home before Baekhyun. He loops around to the backyard, peeks into Chanyeol's window.

It's dark. He knocks gently, but no one answers. He sighs, goes back inside to curl up on his bed.

He's half-asleep—still in his clothes on top of his comforter—when someone knocks on _his_ window. He sits up, frowns, rubs his eyes.

"Chanyeol?" he says when he pulls up the blinds, surprised even though he knows, logically, that it's highly unlikely to be anyone else.

Chanyeol stands on the other side of the glass with hunched shoulders and his hands clasped behind his back like a naughty schoolboy. "Hi," he says quietly. "Did I wake you?"

Kyungsoo blinks hard and shakes his head, forcing himself not to yawn as he pries off the screen over his window. "No. Hey. What's up?"

Immediately, Chanyeol shakes his head, takes a step back. "Oh, no, I'm not coming in."

"Oh," Kyungsoo says, fingers locked around the screen. "Why not?"

Chanyeol just shakes his head again. "I. I only came to. Give you this." He takes his hands out from behind his back, holds out a little parcel wrapped messily in newspaper.

Kyungsoo's immediate, visceral reaction is anger. "What's this?" he snaps, reaching through the open window to snatch it from Chanyeol's hand. "Yeol, what the fuck?"

Chanyeol's throat bobs in the light coming through Kyungsoo's window. "I," he says quietly. "I bought that for you."

Kyungsoo freezes. Chanyeol does dumb shit—does _so much_ fucking dumb shit—but he never lies. Not to Kyungsoo. "You bought it?"

Jerkily, Chanyeol nods.

Kyungsoo's fingers curl around the edge of the gift. "With— How?"

Chanyeol shuffles his feet, scratches the back of his neck nervously. "I." He stops, toes at the weeds under his feet. "I...got a job."

For a second, Kyungsoo doesn't even know what to say. The cool night air blows in through his window, and crickets chirp in the grass, filling the uncomfortably long silence before he manages to say, "You did?"

Chanyeol nods, apparently at a loss for words as much as Kyungsoo is.

Kyungsoo blinks. " _Where?_ "

A tiny smile quirks at the corner of Chanyeol's lips, shy and uncertain. "The...corner store."

" _Our_ corner store?" Kyungsoo asks incredulously.

Chanyeol's shoulders hunch. "Yeah."

"The corner store you _shoplifted from?_ "

Chanyeol tugs his zipper up and down nervously. "Um. Yeah."

Kyungsoo lets out a loud, disbelieving laugh, a little too overwhelmed from emotional whiplash to respond like he normally would. "They hired you there? Damn, Yeol. I can't believe they gave you a second chance."

"Yeah," Chanyeol whispers, ducking his head.

"Hey," Kyungsoo says immediately, reaching out for him even though Chanyeol is too far to touch. "Hey. I'm happy. I'm—really fucking happy, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol looks up at him again, eyes wide and a little shiny. “You are?”

“Of _course_ I am,” Kyungsoo says, chest squeezing. “This. This is a good thing. I'm so happy about this." He pauses, and then adds, "I just can't believe you were brave enough to ask them."

"Well," Chanyeol says, shuffling his feet again. "I just figured. If they were willing to give me another chance, then...maybe you would too."

Kyungsoo's heart stutters a little in his chest. Damn this boy, and his huge goddamn puppy eyes. No wonder he got that job despite his reputation there. He's a goddamn angel, when he's not actively fucking up. "So," he says gruffly, embarrassed. "Am I supposed to open this, or...?"

Chanyeol blinks. "Oh, yeah! Um. It's a gift. I guess."

Kyungsoo chews on his lip, peels the newspaper back messily to reveal...a little dangly keychain, with a huge sun wearing sunglasses over a sandy beach, and the words _Cali Girl_ in curly writing across the bottom. Kyungsoo laughs helplessly, shakes his head, hates how tight his throat feels. "Wow, Park. Don't get _too_ creative with your gifts."

Chanyeol huffs, twists his hands in the hem of his jacket. "It's a—a souvenir. Something to remember me by, you know. When you go away to college."

Kyungsoo's ribs tighten around his lungs. "Oh," he says, swallowing thickly. Suddenly, his giddy joy at Chanyeol having found a _job_ —a _real job_ —is mixed in with...something else. Something much more complex. "I'll be sure to put it on my backpack so everyone can see."

"You don't have to do that," Chanyeol says quickly.

"No," Kyungsoo says. "I really do."

A smile tugs at Chanyeol's lips, and he looks away. "Hey, Soo," he says softly.

"Hmm?"

Chanyeol takes another step away from the window—away from Kyungsoo. "I. I'd like to take you somewhere."

Kyungsoo blinks, frowns. "What do you mean? Right now?"

"No, I mean." Chanyeol clears his throat uncomfortably. "I mean sometime. I'd like to take you somewhere. Like. To a restaurant, or to the movies, or..."

Kyungsoo's heart thumps against his ribs. "Why?"

Chanyeol shuffles a little farther away. "I just. I want to."

"Yeol," Kyungsoo says, blood rushing in his ears. "Why?"

"Because you're leaving soon." Chanyeol's throat bobs. "And I want to. I want to be with...you. Until then. I know I'm still not good and I'm, I'm going to make more mistakes but. I want to spend time with you."

Something in Kyungsoo's head whispers _oh, god_. And part of him thinks he must, he _must_ be misinterpreting this. But the other part thinks he might die if he is. If Chanyeol isn't...asking what Kyungsoo thinks he's asking. He’s never even really, _really_ thought about this before, anything like _this_ , but suddenly, he...is very much thinking about it. At very high speeds. "Okay," he croaks. "Sure. I like movies."

"Okay," Chanyeol says, still from five feet away. "Can we go on Tuesday, maybe? It's matinée."

"Sure," Kyungsoo says, even though he has no idea what his schedule looks like. His heart is beating too loudly for him to think that rationally. "I can pay for my own ticket though."

Immediately, Chanyeol shakes his head. "No. I want to. You've...you've given me a lot already. And I...want to."

Kyungsoo hesitates, chews on his lip. And then he says, "Okay. Tuesday. You're paying."

Chanyeol flashes him a smile so bright it makes Kyungsoo's knees a little weak. "Okay," he says, weirdly breathless. "See you then."

And then he runs— _literally runs away_ —back home, to his own side of the house, where Kyungsoo watches him dart through the back door, and then a second later slam his bedroom window shut. Like he's so embarrassed that he can't risk Kyungsoo catching a glimpse of him through the glass.

Kyungsoo grins, cheeks hot, and closes his own window much more gently.

"It's a date," he says quietly, just to himself. And then, "I think."

*~*~*

Kyungsoo has no idea why he subconsciously stakes so much on what Chanyeol wears to take him on their...movie date thing, but when his best friend shows up at his window in the same ripped jeans and huge purple jacket as always, he really. He feels something suspiciously like despair.

Same old clothes. Nothing special. _He_ obviously didn’t spend an hour scouring his entire closet for the perfect I’m-not-trying-to-look-good-for-you-I-just-do outfit. 

Not that Chanyeol _doesn’t_ look good. Because his face is still...annoyingly handsome. But it’s the principle of the matter. 

“Hey,” Kyungsoo says, forcing a smile. 

“Hi,” Chanyeol says, fidgeting on the other side of the glass. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. I was just going to. Change. Into something else.” Kyungsoo tugs his shirt a little bitterly over his head, pulls on the same t-shirt he wore to school that day. 

“Oh. Okay,” Chanyeol says. “You looked nice, though. I mean, you still look nice. Also.” 

Kyungsoo feels his face flush embarrassedly, and he shrugs, flattens his bangs over his forehead. “Thanks,” he says awkwardly. “So are we gonna go? Also, you could have come through the door, you know. We have a door.”

“I know,” Chanyeol says. “But I like coming to the window. Everything feels more exciting if you climb through a window.”

Kyungsoo snorts, shoving his feet into a pair of high-tops from his closet. “We’re just going to the movies, Yeol. It’s not that exciting.”

Chanyeol’s lips press together in a tiny frown, just for a moment, and then he says, “I mean, I know. But still.”

Kyungsoo turns away under the pretense of making sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, and squeezes his eyes shut briefly. _Shit_. He said a bunch of wrong things again. 

“Okay,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “Let’s go!”

Chanyeol flashes him a smile in response, but it’s not as bright as it should be. Kyungsoo fucked up. 

Their walk to the movie theatre is...not quite uncomfortable, but it’s weird. There’s obviously something not quite right hanging between them, and Kyungsoo knows it’s his fault. He...he thought this was something it wasn’t, probably, and now he’s acting stupid and Chanyeol probably doesn’t know what’s going on and honestly, Kyungsoo should have just...said something. Used his _words_ , maybe. But he never knows how to do that. Every time he tries, he just makes things worse.

But then they get there, and Chanyeol suddenly looks so _fucking_ happy, paying for their tickets with his own money, holding them up proudly for an employee who has probably caught him sneaking in here—probably with his _dog_ , too—in the past. 

He looks so happy, and Kyungsoo doesn’t _get_ to make this shitty for him. Not today. He won’t do that to Chanyeol. 

“Hey,” he says, tugging on Chanyeol’s elbow as he heads for the line to get into the cinema. “Hey. Do you want to get some photobooth stickers, maybe? On me.”

Chanyeol blinks at him. “I can pay,” he says immediately. 

“No, not for this,” Kyungsoo says, quirking a smile at him. “This is for me, so I’ll pay.”

A minute later, they’re sitting in the theatre’s dingy little photobooth, pressed close together on the narrow bench in front of the camera. Kyungsoo clicks through the options, and the timer counts down from 3. 

Instantly, Chanyeol’s 1000-watt grin is out, full-force and blinding in the little screen. Kyungsoo laughs at the familiarity of it—Chanyeol’s camera smile, which shows off at least 30 of his teeth and looks suspiciously close to a grimace—and the flash goes off. The timer starts again. 

“Make a dumb face,” Chanyeol says, sticking out his tongue and scrunching up his nose. Kyungsoo panics, crosses his eyes just in time for the picture. 

“Cute pose,” Chanyeol commands, bringing his fists up to his cheeks and pouting. Kyungsoo holds up a peace sign next to his temple and closes his eyes to avoid the evidence, gives his best, most angelic smile. 

“Okay one nice one,” Chanyeol says, sitting back, smiling, waiting. 

Kyungsoo grins, slings his arm around Chanyeol’s shoulders, and pulls him in close. Their cheeks press together just as the flash goes off. 

“Oh,” Chanyeol says, pulling away slowly and smiling at the floor. “Haha.”

Kyungsoo retrieves their photos from the slot just outside the booth door. He looks dumb in all of them. But they’re cute.

He rips the last one off, slips it into Chanyeol’s jacket pocket. “For you to remember me by,” he says, nudging at Chanyeol’s toe with his own. 

Chanyeol’s cheeks go strangely pink. “I’m gonna go get us a snack,” he says, and disappears to stand in line for popcorn. 

The first half of the movie is...forgettable. It’s some meathead action film, and Kyungsoo would like it enough, if he weren’t preoccupied with a thousand other spinning thoughts. As it is, though, he’s busy overthinking everything that’s happened in the past few weeks, everything he’s said and everything Chanyeol’s done. 

He reaches blindly into the bag of popcorn balanced between Chanyeol’s knees, and bumps into Chanyeol’s hand there, fingers tangling accidentally as they both try to grab a handful at the same time. Kyungsoo smiles a little, and then feels Chanyeol drag his fingertips significantly less accidentally up his palm before he retreats to make room for Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo’s whole body goes warm, and he snatches his handful of popcorn out, pretends not to have noticed. His mind is set spiraling all over again. 

Eventually, the popcorn runs out, and Kyungsoo is left with oily hands and a head full of thoughts of...back row theatre makeouts, even though they’re not in the back row and they’re _definitely_ not making out. Or about to make out. And he knows that, obviously, but he keeps thinking about it anyway, sitting back in his seat, pretending to pay attention. It’s dark, he figures. And loud. Chanyeol won’t notice if he’s the only one laughing. 

Chanyeol’s hand bumps into his again, where Kyungsoo has his hands palm-up on his knees to avoid getting grease stains on his nice jeans. He flinches a little, then forcibly relaxes. And then it happens again. And again. Kyungsoo doesn’t even know what Chanyeol’s hands are doing this far over the barrier of the armrest between them. 

And then Chanyeol’s gross, buttery fingertips drag over Kyungsoo’s palm again, and he lays his own down against it, letting his fingers fall through the gaps between Kyungsoo’s. 

Kyungsoo’s breath hitches against his will, and he closes his fingers around Chanyeol’s hand instinctively, warm and oily and sweat-sticky. Chanyeol goes stiff beside him, and then relaxes, fidgets. Kyungsoo’s dumb heart beats way too quickly. 

And then they’re...holding hands. In the middle row of the theatre. And it’s not quite back row makeouts, but— But. It’s something. Kyungsoo bites his lip and starts overanalyzing all over again, only much more optimistically. 

The movie ends, and Chanyeol stands up, but doesn’t let go of Kyungsoo’s hand. Kyungsoo looks up at him, and Chanyeol looks quickly away. 

Stomach squirming, Kyungsoo smiles, stands as well. They walk out like that, fingers still linked together. Kyungsoo decides this is worth not washing his hands. 

“So,” Chanyeol says, head down as they walk down the street towards home. “That was a pretty good movie, right?”

Kyungsoo laughs a little, trying desperately to remember a single detail. “Yeah,” he says vaguely. “I liked the girl. That actress.”

“What girl?” Chanyeol says, blinking wide eyes down at him. 

Kyungsoo cocks an incredulous eyebrow. “Were you even looking at the screen?”

Chanyeol’s ears go red, and he looks away. “Yeah, of course,” he mumbles. 

Kyungsoo grins, tightens his fingers around Chanyeol’s. “So,” he says, swinging their hands gently between them. “Tell me about your job.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol shrugs, keeps his shoulders hunched. “It’s just, you know. Boring. I just ring up people’s purchases and stand behind the counter and stuff. Sometimes I can bring my homework there, and then I feel like I have to do it. And my coworker helps a little, sometimes.” He scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. 

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Kyungsoo says. 

“No, it’s not. I mean, right now I’m kind of working a lot, like most days after school and on weekends and stuff, but it’s not bad.” They stop for a red light, and Chanyeol squeezes Kyungsoo’s hand and loosens his grip rhythmically. “It makes me feel good, too.”

“The job?”

Chanyeol shrugs. “Working. It. It makes me feel good because I’m...doing good things. And I know they’re good. And, I mean, it’s hard and tiring and it’s not _fun_ but sometimes, like, my boss will tell me I’m doing a good job or I’m learning fast and that makes me feel really good. And he said he remembers me from when we were kids, you know, and he said that’s what made him hire me. And that made me feel really good, too. That he remembers me like that. When I was still good.”

“You’re still good _now_ , Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says softly, pulling him forward gently when the light turns green. “You were just having a bit of a rough time.”

Chanyeol huffs, shrugs. 

Kyungsoo bumps their shoulders together. “I’m really happy for you, Yeol. I’m really glad that you’re...feeling good.”

Chanyeol tips his chin down, smiles at him. “Thanks, Soo,” he says quietly. 

They take the long route home, and walk slow. Kyungsoo has exam review he should be doing, and probably about a hundred other things besides, but all of that is far in the back of his mind tonight. Right now it’s just him, and Chanyeol, and the cool evening breeze, and the ever-present lights of the city. They’re far from alone on the streets—no one’s ever alone in LA—but Kyungsoo doesn’t see anyone else. His entire world has narrowed down to the two of them, and the point of contact between their hands. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, after a long stretch of comfortable silence. “You wanna stop here a bit?”

Kyungsoo lifts his head, sees the park they used to go to as kids, four blocks away from their houses. It’s empty now—it’s late on a school night, too late for kids to still be out playing—and it’s quiet. Private. Kyungsoo smiles. “Yeah, sure.”

They sit down side-by-side on the edge of the playground, feet swinging, shoulders brushing. Chanyeol lets go of Kyungsoo’s hand to dig something out of his jacket pocket, and Kyungsoo flexes his empty palm against his knee, feigning indifference. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol says. “Um.”

Kyungsoo looks at him questioningly, and Chanyeol immediately looks away. 

“I. I have something for you,” Chanyeol says to the woodchips beneath their feet. 

“Oh,” Kyungsoo says. “Another thing?”

Chanyeol shrugs, pulls his phone from his pocket, unwraps his earbuds from around it. “Here,” he says, and leans over to slip them into Kyungsoo’s ears. 

Kyungsoo blinks, holds perfectly still. “ _Shit_ ,” he hears Chanyeol mutter as he fumbles, and then he jerks forward, presses his lips to Kyungsoo’s cheek quickly. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t move, stunned by the kiss, however brief. “Shit,” he hears Chanyeol whisper again, “that was, I wasn’t going to—”

And then the sound starts, and Kyungsoo doesn’t hear anything else. 

_If I was your boyfriend,  
I’d never let you go._

It’s a shitty recording on Chanyeol’s shitty, hand-me-down phone, one voice, one clumsily-played guitar. It’s not an amazing cover—Chanyeol’s singing voice is nice, but the quality is terrible and he obviously only knows how to play simple chords—but Kyungsoo would bet all his savings Chanyeol learned to play it by ear. And he changes all the feminine pronouns. 

Kyungsoo ducks his head, bites his bottom lip so hard that he thinks he tastes blood. His heart crashes in his chest. 

_I can be a gentleman, anything you want  
If I was your boyfriend, I’d never let you go._

When he finally dares to look up again, Chanyeol has his hands over his cheeks, hunched over to rest his elbows on his thighs, and his ears are bright red where the tips stick out of his hair. Kyungsoo bites his tongue, lets himself grin a little. “Hey,” he says. “I’m done.”

Chanyeol’s eyes flick towards him, but he doesn’t move. “The videos helped,” he mumbles. “On the USB. So.”

“You’re good,” Kyungsoo says, heart fluttering, stomach twisting. “You won’t be singing much Justin Bieber when you get into college, though.”

Chanyeol huffs, sits up, scrubs his hands over his cheeks. Embarrassed, but also nervous. 

Kyungsoo knows how he feels. “I,” he says, and then stops. He doesn’t know what to say, because there are so many things he _wants_ to say but all the words seem wrong, not enough, too hard. They get stuck in his throat, get lost on his tongue. 

So instead he reaches out, curls his fingers around the lapel of Chanyeol’s jacket. Tugs Chanyeol towards him, slowly, gently. Gives him time to pull back, if he wants to. 

Chanyeol drops his hands, stares at Kyungsoo with wide, hopeful eyes. Kyungsoo smiles at him, sick with nerves, and pulls him a little closer. 

He kisses Chanyeol softly, because it’s what Chanyeol deserves. He kisses him, because he is _so bad_ at saying the right words, but maybe. Maybe he can do a hard thing instead. 

The sound that Chanyeol makes is as heartbreaking as it is gratifying, soft and desperate and relieved, and Kyungsoo kisses it from his lips, presses his palm to Chanyeol’s jaw and feels everything click into place, even as everything in him kind of shatters. In a good way. 

The thing is, he’s always kind of known, really, that he’s in love with Chanyeol. He didn’t notice it happening—didn’t notice the gradual evolution from childish, platonic love to this—but it’s always been there, even if he never acknowledged it. He’s not surprised. 

What surprises him, instead, is the way his entire body feels shaky and hot and cold at the same time, and the way he kind of feels like crying. Kyungsoo’s not a crier. Especially not the kind who cries when he kisses someone for the first time. He’s not the kind of person who kisses the boy he’s been in love with for years and thinks cheesy things, like _I think this is the happiest moment of my life_. And _I hope this is Chanyeol’s new happiest memory._

When he finally pulls away—lips lingering, eyelids fluttering—Chanyeol is breathing hard, and there’s moisture clinging to his eyelashes. Kyungsoo pretends not to notice. 

“I’m not going anywhere, by the way,” he says—whispers, because it’s so quiet, and they’re still so close together. “I got into UCLA.”

Chanyeol blinks dumbly. “What?”

A smile pulls at Kyungsoo’s lips. “I got my acceptance letter yesterday. I’ll be commuting starting in the fall. It’s barely farther than my school right now.”

It seems to take a few seconds for that to register in Chanyeol’s brain. “Oh my god,” he says slowly. “Oh my god. Soo!”

Kyungsoo’s grin breaks out in full force across his face. “Yeah.”

Chanyeol’s hug is bone-crushing—familiar. He presses his face into the side of Kyungsoo’s head, and Kyungsoo laughs, hugs him back. And then he pulls away, tips his face up, catches Chanyeol’s chin with his lips. 

Immediately, Chanyeol is tilting his head to kiss him full on the mouth, hard and quick, and then again, and again. His kisses are clumsy, a little bitey, but Kyungsoo doesn’t care, literally couldn’t fucking care less. He laughs, curls his fingers in the back of Chanyeol’s stupid purple jacket, and lifts one hand to scratch gently at the back of Chanyeol’s head. He nudges his face up into kiss after kiss, letting Chanyeol smooth his hair back from his forehead over and over, revelling in the quiet intimacy of it, the little thrills it all sends down Kyungsoo’s spine. He wants to shove his hand up under Chanyeol’s shirt, wants Chanyeol to touch him all over, hold him closer and tighter, but they’re outside, in public. That can wait for later. 

For now, Kyungsoo pulls away from Chanyeol’s mouth, kisses him all over his face, on the apples of his cheeks and his chin and his nose and eyelids. “You’re. You’re so good,” he says, because he’s been kissed stupid and everything feels amazing. “I’m so happy that you’re doing better and feeling better but you’re _always_ good and I. I’ve _always_ — I always knew. Okay? Am I making sense?”

Chanyeol smiles, eyes closed, and Kyungsoo’s lips land half on his teeth. “No,” he says. 

“I _missed_ you,” Kyungsoo says, pressing his whole face into Chanyeol’s cheek. He has no idea what he’s doing. “Don’t make me miss you anymore.”

“I have a job now,” Chanyeol says as he wraps his arms around Kyungsoo’s shoulders, squeezing him tightly. “I’m a busy man.”

And that isn’t what Kyungsoo meant, and maybe Chanyeol knows that, but he lets it go, kisses Chanyeol’s cheek. “I’ll come visit you at work,” he promises. 

Chanyeol smiles, catches his lips softly. “I’m really happy,” he whispers. 

Kyungsoo hums, tips their foreheads together and just breathes. For the first time in a long time, everything feels...good. In a few months, everything is going to change again—they’ll both be out of high school, and Kyungsoo will be in college—but it doesn’t feel like an end to something. It feels more like a beginning. 

He inhales, smiles. “Me too.”

*~*~*

Three days later, Chanyeol gets off work at 7pm, and Kyungsoo drags himself away from finals review to go with him to the dog park, Toben wiggling at their feet until Chanyeol picks him up.

It’s been...a good couple of days. Chanyeol’s been working, and Kyungsoo’s been stressing out over school, but they see each other in the evenings, even if only briefly. There have been furtive kisses through open windows. It’s been nice. 

Jongin and Sehun are already at the park when they arrive, standing around with their ripped jeans and slouched shoulders like scrawny thugs while their yappy little dogs chasing each other around in dizzying circles. Immediately, Toben flings himself out of Chanyeol’s arms to run after them, barking madly.

“Monggyu is literally obsessed with kibble,” Jongin is saying as they approach, hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I have no idea why. It has so much trash in it. I’d like to feed him something else, but dry kibble is cheapest, so…”

“Yeah, ugh,” Sehun says, pulling the hood of his sweater up over his snapback. “I mean, ideally, I’d feed Vivi at least part raw, but…”

“ _Ideal_ ,” Jongin agrees, nodding emphatically. “Did you watch that video I sent you of the YouTuber who feeds her pets an all-raw diet?”

“Yeah, fuck, that girl’s got it made,” Sehun sighs. “I’d want to do a little research first before trying it myself though.”

Jongin nods, and then looks up when Monggyu yelps at a passing Golden Retriever, finally sees Chanyeol and Kyungsoo approaching. “Oh, hey!”

Busy trying to process whatever he just heard, Kyungsoo lifts a hand in a vague greeting, and Chanyeol beams and says, “Hey guys!”

“Welcome back to the crew, Soo,” Sehun says, inclining his head in a condescending sort of nod. 

Kyungsoo snorts. “Thanks, brat.”

“So anyway,” Jongin says, turning to Chanyeol. “What are you feeding Toben now, Chanyeol?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, stands back to watch and listen, half-amused, half-uncertain what he’s supposed to do. Jongin and Sehun barely even look at him, don’t say a word about why he’s here when he’s never come to their doggy dates before. Kyungsoo has no idea how much Chanyeol told his friends about...them. If he warned them ahead of time that Kyungsoo would be coming, and if he said why, if he said _Kyungsoo’s coming to hang out_ or if he said _we’re dating now._

Kyungsoo doesn’t even know if they’re dating now. If that’s a word Chanyeol would use. He confessed, more or less, with a song literally titled _Boyfriend_ , but he’s never actually said the word outside of the cover. And Kyungsoo sure as hell hasn’t, either. 

Admittedly, playing with a bunch of dogs isn’t really Kyungsoo’s idea of an ideal date. Or just...an ideal evening, period. He’s never owned pets, and never knows how to act around them, and _definitely_ doesn’t know how to play with them. He mostly just tries to stay out of the way, avoids stepping on any furry, wiggly bodies, watches Chanyeol grin and throw rubber balls across the grass. He watches Chanyeol crack jokes and laugh at the dogs’ antics. 

It’s not ideal, but it’s...nice. Seeing Chanyeol look so carefree, and all that. It’s also been years since Kyungsoo spent much time with Jongin and Sehun, and although he knows they’re enablers when it comes to Chanyeol’s delinquency, he also knows Chanyeol likes spending time with them. And that makes them mostly alright in Kyungsoo’s books. 

“Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol calls. “Why don’t you play with Toben a little? The bigger dogs are bullying him.”

“They are not!” Jongin protests immediately. 

“Jonginnie’s dog is too lazy to bully anyone,” Sehun snickers, throwing a little chew toy for Vivi. 

The boys argue back and forth about their dogs, and Kyungsoo laughs, shakes his head. “I’m fine over here,” he says, moving to a bench a stone’s throw away, next to a skinny tree. “Trust me, Toben doesn’t want to play with me.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol says, pouting a little. “Well, if you’re sure—”

“I don’t mind just watching,” Kyungsoo assures him with a smile. “It’s kind of nice.”

Chanyeol frowns, and then shrugs. “Okay,” he says, and turns back to playing tug-of-war with Monggyu. 

“So now that you’re a good working boy, we can only get our dog things at your store, huh Yeol?” Sehun says, wrestling the toy back out of his dog’s mouth. “Buy, I mean. I’m not going to steal from your store.”

“No stealing from _any_ store,” Kyungsoo says, shaking his finger warningly. 

Sehun rolls his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. I can lecture myself, thanks.”

Kyungsoo snorts, leans back in his seat. “If you two get Chanyeol in trouble, I’ll kick your asses.”

“You won’t be around,” Sehun sniffs. “Only Chanyeol is sticking around after you guys graduate.”

“I’m not going that far,” Kyungsoo says, mock threatening. “And besides, Chanyeol won’t be working there forever. Soon he’ll be joining _me._ ” 

“In college?” Jongin says, looking up from where he’s rubbing Toben’s belly. He glances at Chanyeol. “I thought you didn’t want to go to college.”

Chanyeol ducks his head, shrugs. “I said I didn’t know,” he says quietly, his voice nearly getting lost in the sound of a dozen dogs barking from around the park. 

Kyungsoo blinks at him. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, waves him away. Kyungsoo frowns. 

At the same time, Sehun and Jongin look at each other across the park lawn, and then at Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo has no idea what’s going on. 

Fifteen minutes of bizarre dog games later, Sehun wanders over to Kyungsoo’s bench while Chanyeol and Jongin go to mediate a meeting between the puppies and a massive Great Dane, and sits down beside him under the pretense of searching for something in his backpack. “Hey,” he says without looking at Kyungsoo, “uh, I get that you’re trying to make Chanyeol a good person and stuff, but how about you maybe try to make him feel good about himself? And make him happy?”

Kyungsoo’s jaw drops. “What?”

“Just an idea, I dunno,” Sehun says dryly, tugging a little package of treats out of a side pocket. 

“No, what do you mean?” Kyungsoo says, frowning. “That’s what I’m _doing_.” 

“Dude,” Sehun scoffs. “You’re not. Like it’s cool that you’re boyfriends and stuff now but maybe stop making him feel bad?”

Kyungsoo’s stomach turns uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you _mean_.” 

Sehun just shakes his head. “And maybe pet his dog once in a while, asshole.”

“ _What?_ ” Kyungsoo says, at the same time that Chanyeol yells, “Hey, dickface! Your dog is making a break for it!”

“Oh, shit,” Sehun says, bolting from the bench to catch Vivi before he wanders too far. 

Kyungsoo spends the rest of their time at the park trying to figure out what Sehun _meant_. And also reeling from the fact that Sehun called them boyfriends—either that Chanyeol told him that, or that he just made that assumption—but mostly just. Feeling confused. And concerned. 

He doesn’t know what he did _wrong._

By the time the sun starts setting and the two of them start home with Toben back on his leash, Kyungsoo has half convinced himself that he _imagined_ everything Sehun said to him on the bench. Chanyeol doesn’t _look_ unhappy. He’s smiling, and chattering mindlessly, and holding Kyungsoo’s hand. He doesn’t look like Kyungsoo makes him feel bad. 

And then Toben runs between his legs while they’re waiting at a stoplight, twists his leash around Kyungsoo’s ankles, and Chanyeol practically chokes the poor thing trying to snatch him away. “I’m sorry,” he says, attempting to unwrap the leash hastily. “Sorry, sorry—”

And Kyungsoo thinks of Sehun saying _pet his dog once in a while_. He frowns, bends down to pick Toben up and scratch at his soft belly. “It’s fine, Chanyeol,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol blinks, smiles like Kyungsoo has given him some sort of gift. “Thanks.”

And Kyungsoo thinks, _shit_. He still doesn’t know what the hell Sehun was talking about, but this. If he was right about this...maybe he was right about everything else, too. 

Kyungsoo feels sick at the thought of it. 

They head straight to Chanyeol’s house from there, even though it’s late and Kyungsoo has so many things he should be doing, sleep he should be catching up on. But instead, he tries to smile at Chanyeol as he turns on some music, joins him on his bed, curling up and tucking himself up against him. 

It’s something they’ve done a hundred times before—spent the evening listening to music in Chanyeol’s room together. It’s the same way they spent half of their childhood together, only now Kyungsoo’s head is tucked under Chanyeol’s chin, and their legs are tangled together on his blankets, and Kyungsoo’s lips are resting against the skin of Chanyeol’s throat, feeling the vibrations when Chanyeol sings along quietly. 

He listens to Chanyeol breathe for a few minutes, stomach turning, and then he takes a steadying breath and says, “Do I make you unhappy?”

For a second, Chanyeol doesn’t respond. His body tenses up, though, and eventually he just says, “What?”

Kyungsoo swallows thickly. “Do I...make you feel unhappy?”

There’s a single, horrible beat of silence before Chanyeol says, “...No.”

Kyungsoo squeezes his eyes shut. “I want to believe you,” he whispers, “but I feel like you’re lying. And you never lie to me.”

“I’m not lying!” Chanyeol says quickly. Kyungsoo can feel his pulse fluttering wildly in his throat. “I’m happy that you’re here. With me.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head slightly. “Sehun said that I make you unhappy. And Jongin said you told them you don’t want to go to college. But you didn’t tell me.”

This time, the silence is longer, stretches into heavy seconds that curl around Kyungsoo’s gut, pull tight. And then Chanyeol says, voice soft, “Sometimes it’s hard to tell you the truth.”

Kyungsoo exhales painfully, scratching his fingertips gently over Chanyeol’s back through the fabric of his shirt. “Why?”

Chanyeol puffs warm air against the top of his head. “The truth is hard to say when the truth is that you’re never good enough,” he whispers. 

“What?” Kyungsoo pulls his head back from under Chanyeol’s chin, tries to look at him as Chanyeol averts his gaze. “Yeol, no.”

Chanyeol swallows audibly. “This is the first time I’ve ever been anything other than complete shit. And now I’m just...still shit, only with a job.”

“Chan _yeol_ ,” Kyungsoo says, horrified.

“And sometimes it’s just hard to talk to you,” Chanyeol says, face growing redder, eyes blinking hard. “Because I know that everything I say will just make you feel disappointed again. And then you’ll tell me all these big things you want me to do, and I know I should do them, but sometimes they just make me want to die.”

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo whispers, pressing a hand to his cheek. “You know I just want you to be happy.”

“I _know_ ,” Chanyeol says, turning his face away, into his pillow. “But what if I can’t do all the things you want me to do? You want to date me now, because I did literally the easiest thing on your list, but what about when I can’t do any of the other things?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, halfway stunned by all the things wrong with what Chanyeol is saying. “God, I fucked up,” he mutters. 

“No, _I—_ ” Chanyeol starts to say. 

“No, Chanyeol, _listen_ ,” Kyungsoo says, ribs tight around his lungs. “First of all, you getting a job was _not_ the easiest thing on my list. That was a _hard fucking thing,_ and I am _so fucking proud_ of you for doing it.”

Chanyeol scoffs wetly. “Getting a job was just...like, _if you can’t go to college because you’re so poor and your grades are so shitty, you can do this instead, for now, I guess._ ” 

“That is _not_ what I meant,” Kyungsoo says, pushing himself up on his elbow to look down at him. “Chanyeol, you don’t even _have_ to go to college. Ever. And my word isn’t law. I _want_ you to go to college, because I want you to be able to do something that makes you happy, and I think there are some things in college that would make that easier for you. But you really, _really_ don’t have to. If you can’t, or even if you just don’t want to. That’s okay. That’s so fucking okay.” 

He smooths Chanyeol’s hair back from his forehead, tries and fails to get Chanyeol to look at him. “All I _want_ is for you to be happy. And honestly, if working at a corner store for the rest of your life makes you happy, then I would be perfectly satisfied with you doing that. But if you want something more than that, and it’s _attainable_ , then of course I’m going to want you to do that instead. I’m not saying you have to be a famous music producer or something, I’m not saying you have to graduate college top of your class, and I’m not even saying you have to fulfill your biggest dreams, because sometimes you just _can’t_. But I don’t want you to be scared of trying. And I _really_ don’t want you to keep doing dumb, illegal shit, because even if it didn’t get you in trouble, it makes you feel shitty, and I want you to feel _good_.”

By the time Chanyeol finally looks at Kyungsoo again, there are shiny tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “You’re the only one who ever _expects_ something of me,” he says, voice wobbly. “And that’s—I need that. For you to expect something of me. But it’s so hard sometimes. Because I don’t know if I can do anything.”

“You can,” Kyungsoo whispers, wiping moisture from under Chanyeol’s eyes with his thumbs. “You already have. Look at you getting a _job_. And look at you learning the guitar! Yeol, you’re doing amazing.”

“The guitar is really fucking hard,” Chanyeol mumbles. “I stayed up all night learning and recording that cover for you.”

Kyungsoo blinks, feels his chest squeeze painfully. “Okay, Yeol—you can and _should_ push yourself, but you don’t need to kill yourself doing it. I want you to try things and I want you to do things that make you happy, like learn music—I really want you to learn music—but you’re allowed to...go slow. I want you to do hard things, but they don’t have to be big things. They can be little things. And you can fail. Okay? You can fail and try again and you can fail a hundred times but at least you’ll be _trying._ ” 

“It’s hard,” Chanyeol says, sniffs. “And scary.”

“I know,” Kyungsoo says. He leans down, kisses Chanyeol softly. “I’m sorry.”

Chanyeol huffs against his mouth, pulls away. “Sorry for what?”

“No, no, you don’t get to say I didn’t do anything wrong,” Kyungsoo says immediately, shaking his head, clutching at Chanyeol’s shirt. “I did, I— I’m sorry. Sehun said I make you feel bad, and I didn’t know what he meant, but he’s _right_. I don’t mean to make you feel bad. Or, I mean, I _do_ —because I want you to change. But that’s shitty of me. Wanting to make you feel bad. Chanyeol, I’m sorry.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, and then whispers, “It does make me feel a little bad when you hate my dog.”

“Oh, god,” Kyungsoo groans, closing his eyes. “I don’t hate your dog, Yeol. I really don’t. I might not be...100% a dog person, but I absolutely do not hate your dog. I’m sorry I didn’t...make that clearer.”

Chanyeol’s shoulders twitch up in a shrug. “It’s just. My dog doesn’t care that I’m...dumb, or bad. He doesn’t care that I’m always fucking up.”

Kyungsoo sighs, lies down against Chanyeol’s pillow again, touches their foreheads together gently. “The one who’s always fucking up is _me_ , clearly.”

“No,” Chanyeol whispers. 

“I’m gonna fuck up some more,” Kyungsoo says. “I _am_. Because I always say the wrong words and sometimes I don’t even know it and I...get sensitive about weird things, like you not wearing nice clothes to our movie date. And I get angry sometimes because I’m scared and worried and I might take that out on you and make you feel shitty. I don’t do it on _purpose_ and I would never _try_ to hurt you but it’s likely that I will, sometimes. I’m gonna fuck up, Yeol. And so are you, probably. We’re both gonna fuck up. Because that’s what you _do_ when you’re a person. But I don’t want you to think that I’m going to, like...decide to stop dating you because of something like that. And I _especially_ don’t want you to think I’m the only one with any say or power between us. Because that would be super messed up.” He pulls away again, just a little, and rubs his thumbs over Chanyeol’s warm cheeks. “So let’s just try to work things out together, okay? And try to be...honest. And use our words.” He quirks his lips in a small smile. 

Chanyeol blinks at him slowly. “You were mad that I didn’t wear nice clothes to our movie date?”

Kyungsoo has to laugh, cheeks warming with embarrassment. “It was stupid. Forget I said that.”

“I panicked,” Chanyeol says. “I think I screamed out loud. All my clothes are ugly and not date-worthy and I didn’t want to look too try-hard.”

Kyungsoo grins, kisses him quickly because he can’t help it. “I feel extra stupid now. Erase it from our relationship history. Agree to my terms about working together and shit.”

Chanyeol sighs, ducks forward for another kiss, longer and sweeter. “It’s going to be hard.”

“You’re telling me,” Kyungsoo mumbles, nosing along Chanyeol’s jaw. “I’m the _worst_ at using my words.”

“You were doing fine just now.” Chanyeol’s hand slips under the hem of Kyungsoo’s shirt, rubs tiny circles into his hip. It makes Kyungsoo feel warm all over. 

“I got all worked up,” Kyungsoo says. “Usually I’m more emotionally repressed.”

Chanyeol chuckles, closes his eyes. “You’re emotionally repressed and I’m a crybaby. A good pair.”

“We _are_ a good pair,” Kyungsoo says softly. “And that’s why I’m going to work on being...better for you.”

“And I’m just going to work on being...better.”

Kyungsoo smiles, presses their mouths together indulgently, pulls himself tight against the length of Chanyeol’s body. And then he laughs as Toben jumps onto the bed to wiggle his body between them, reaches down to scratch his curly black ears. Chanyeol kisses his cheek, and Kyungsoo inhales. “One step at a time.”

**Author's Note:**

> AYOOOO GUESS WHO'S BACK. Just for this lil fic, since it's technically a collab-type thing ^^ This fic really got away from me (it was supposed to be silly and cute?? what??) but yeah idk I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope u all like it uwu.  
> DON'T FORGET TO CHECK OUT THE ART INSPIRATION I LINKED AT THE BEGINNING. actually here it is again now. [LOOK AT IT](http://kagihana.tumblr.com/post/164106142653/day-5-prompt-34)
> 
> Alright that's all, bye, I love you.


End file.
